


Playing the Game

by allisbuttoys



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Post Hogwarts AU, Sirius Black Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 07:41:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11732589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisbuttoys/pseuds/allisbuttoys
Summary: Chess was a good metaphor, she acknowledged to herself. They had been dancing around each other for so long.





	Playing the Game

The tension in the room was killing her. The battle lines had been drawn, the players moving in well practiced dances across the even surface. She resisted the urge to take her eyes away from the action for even one second.

As Hermione Granger made her next move she breathed a sigh of relief. That ought to do it...

‘Check,’ he said lazily, pushing one piece forward with his wand.

Hermione glowered. His relaxed attitude was beginning to get to her. He had been the one who demanded that she have a game with him. He was the one who wouldn’t let her refuse even though he knew how hopeless she was at chess. And yet he was the one who was slumped halfway down his chair, looking utterly bored and irritatingly smug simultaneously.

Tired of his childish antics she flicked her king over. ‘I give up.’

He raised one curved eyebrow at her as she crossed her arms defensively. ‘Why?’

‘I don’t even know why you insisted I play,’ she shot back, determined not to let that look of infuriating superiority get to her. ‘You know I can’t play chess to save my life!’ A smirk now accompanied the raised brow. ‘Do you think this is funny?’

She knew he recognised the threat in her voice but it didn’t register on his face. After all, she hadn’t spent all those months trying to bring him back just to kill him herself. As much as she may feel like it at times.

‘Now, Mya…’ he cautioned. He was the only one never to use her full name and it irritated the hell out of her. The nickname he used was his own invention and she had never been able to work out just how or why he came to call her it. He just did.

‘I’m warning you now, do not test me today.’

Apparently the warning rang clear his time as his nose wrinkled slightly. ‘Why? What happened at work?’

She sighed. ‘Nothing, I’m fine.’ His still raised eyebrow indicated that he didn’t believe it. ‘You know I can’t talk about my work.’

‘I know you can’t give specifics,’ he argued back, ‘but you can certainly talk about what’s bothering you.’

She hesitated, unwilling to disclose the real reason for her irritation. ‘There have been some rumours going around about our “relationship”.’

He snorted slightly and for a split second Hermione was convinced he was going to reassure her that it was alright, to just ignore the talk. But then again, he had never been predictable. ‘You say that as if it doesn’t exist.’

‘Last time I checked we weren’t dating,’ she said stiffly.

‘We might not be, but we’re definitely in a relationship.’ His tone was more of a challenge than a reassurance. This was why she hadn’t wanted to bring it up, she thought. Merlin only knows what he would say if he knew exactly what the rumours were about and why they irked her. She forced herself to listen as he continued. ‘I mean, we live in the same house, eat meals together, go out for drinks or to the cinema. Tell me, Mya, does that or does that not sound like a relationship to you?’

‘Well, yes, but…’

‘Well then tell the bloody prats in your office to mind their own business.’

If only it were that easy, she thought. ‘It’s fine,’ she muttered curtly, ‘I’m dealing with it.’

She went to stand, but found that he stood with her, following her as she sank into an armchair and picked up a book at random. Usually it was a sure way of ending any argument or discussion they found themselves in but tonight he was persistent, pulling the book from her hands despite her noises of protest.

‘Give me my book.’

‘No, we’re going to talk about this.’

‘Give. Me. My. Book.’

‘If you want to get technical, then technically it’s my book,’ he challenged her, throwing it down on the other chair as he knelt in front of her. ‘Look at me, Mya.’

She had been staring over his shoulder until he caught her jaw with one hand and turned her face to his. He must have caught the flare of temper in her eyes as his grip relaxed slightly. No one she knew could get away with telling Hermione what to do and it seemed that he had remembered that. ‘Please.’

He only wanted to help her, Hermione knew this. Despite his show of arrogance and bravado he was one of the most caring people she had ever met.

‘You’ve never been like this over any rumour before. I could see how upset you were from the minute you walked in the door.’

Despite her irritation she frowned at him. ‘So you decided to get me to play chess, something I am completely useless at and get extremely agitated playing.’

He shrugged, unabashed. ‘It got us talking, didn’t it?’

‘Unbelievable,’ she muttered, crossing her arms rigidly. ‘You are utterly unbelievable.’

‘A lot of alliteration there, lady.’ His face fell slightly when she continued to scowl at his joke. ‘Please, Mya, tell me what’s wrong.’

She squeezed her eyes closed for a second before looking at him again. ‘Rogers found out about my last position in the department. He worked out that I was the one who brought you back.’

He still looked confused, the lines on his forehead deepening as he frowned. ‘So..?’

Here goes, she thought, someone will approach him sooner or later. Really, it’s better if he hears it from you. ‘He thinks that I must have done it because there was something… inappropriate between us.’

If this were a cartoon, Hermione thought, the lightbulb just lit up. ‘He thinks I was fucking you when you were underage.’

She grimaced at his crude language. ‘That would be the gist of it, yes.’ Please, please leave it at that, she prayed.

‘Bloody moron,’ he muttered, squeezing her knee as he sat on his own in front of her. ‘None of our friends will think that, Mya.’

‘I know.’

His head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing. ‘I know you, Mya. You haven’t told me everything.’

‘I told you what’s annoying me at work. Now please, just leave it.’

‘No,’ he said, the hand that was slack on her jaw suddenly tightening again, just ever so slightly. ‘Tell me.’

It was obvious that he missed her temper flaring again as she slapped his hand away and shoved her finger into his chest. ‘And who are you to tell me what to do?’

‘Someone who cares about you,’ he snarled back, his grey eyes flashing dangerously.

Hermione laughed, a touch of the manic in her voice. ‘Well that’s just the problem isn’t it. You care about me when I lo…’ She stopped, suddenly horrified at her outburst.

To say that he looked shocked would have been a gross understatement. ‘Pardon?’

Living in the same house for the last year had taught Hermione a lot about him. Contrary to her first impression of him years ago his go to response when uncertain wasn’t to act bullish but rather to be unnecessarily polite. She had learnt a lot about him that she had never known before. Yes he could be crude and dictatorial at times but he was also kind and considerate. He had indulged her in things like trips to the cinema that all of her friends in this world deemed alien and. He had taken it in his stride, because he knew she wanted to go. It was things like that that had made her…

‘You… you love me?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered, unable to deny it now. She had faced up to the rumours about their relationship for months now. It was only once the men in the office had started speculating as to why she claimed that they were not in a relationship that she realised that she wanted to be.

But there was no way he would feel that way about her, she knew. He felt gratitude towards her certainly. By his own admission he cared about her. But love? That was another matter entirely.

He was still silent. She chanced a glance at him and found him staring at the hollow of her neck, seeing nothing.

‘I don’t… I didn’t…’

There was one thing she had not seen in the last year, and that was him lost for words. Even when he had returned he had been able to articulate surprise and joy at the turn of events. Now he was struggling, she knew. ‘Please don’t,’ she begged. ‘I understand, I’ll go and stay with my parents for a while.’

It would do her good, she thought, to get out of the house and get away from his presence for a while. The expression of horror on his face, however, made her think otherwise.

‘I’m twenty years older than you.’

She had no idea why he was raising it or why it was even relevant. ‘Not physically,’ she muttered quietly. ‘You were gone for over seven years.’

‘Twelve years older, then,’ he said, still sounding thoroughly stunned. ‘I never thought you…’ he ran a hand over his face. ‘Merlin, Mya, really?’

She could feel tears of embarrassment and rejection begin to sting at the corners of her eyes. She had known that he wouldn’t return her feelings but did he really have to question her like this? ‘Yes.’

‘I wish you had told me,’ he said, lifting on hand to stroke the side of her cheek reassuringly. His eyes burned brightly in his face as she studied him, clueless as to what he meant by that. She didn’t have to wonder long. ‘Hermione…’

The moment before his lips touched her she recognised that he had used her full name and realised that she missed being called by the name only he had for her.

His mouth was strong and insistent against her and she could feel the slight scrape of his stubble against her skin as he tilted her head. It was better than she could ever have imagined. He tasted like the coffee he had been drinking and a slight hint of the wine they had shared with dinner. And something else that was uniquely him, Hermione thought, none of the other kisses she had shared had been like this. They hadn’t been the right partner, she thought as his hands would their way into her hair, pulling her closer to him.

Her skin crackled under his touch as he ran a hand down her back and drew her still closer. Both were taken unaware when Hermione reached the edge of the chair and into his lap. She heard him groan at the contact and tried to get up but his hands kept her in place. They were both panting slightly as he met her eyes again. ‘Are you sure you want this, Mya?’

She knew what he really meant. Are you sure you want me?

‘I’m sure,’ she said, meeting his gaze steadily. ‘Are you?’

‘You shouldn’t have given up,’ he said unexpectedly before qualifying, ‘with chess.’

‘And we’re talking about it because..?’ she asked. He always had a way of throwing her off-kilter, the only person she knew who she had to struggle to keep up with.

‘If you had moved your queen you would have won.’

Still confused she looked over to the board, sitting exactly as they had left it and realised that he was right.

‘You always forget about the queen, Mya.’ She knew now that they weren’t talking about chess any longer. ‘I was just waiting for her to move.’

Chess was a good metaphor, she acknowledged to herself. They had been dancing around each other for so long.

‘I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way I did,’ he said suddenly. She looked at him questioningly. ‘I love you, Mya.’

When they kissed again it was with more passion and love than Hermione had ever experienced. A few hour later, entangled with each other and cream sheets she leaned up from her place on his chest, pressed a kiss to the place just under his ear and whispered softly to him.

‘Sirius? Checkmate.’

**Author's Note:**

> Sadly I am not JK Rowling and, therefore, own nothing you recognise here.
> 
> Previously published on FanFiction.net.


End file.
